psyche
by shen salazar
Summary: mere mortals like her knew that golden gods like him were always meant to shine no matter what. — t for strong themes later on and mild language. aomine/oc. slow-burn.
1. his oddity

**H I S**

 **O D D I T Y**

"Scram."

The small group of middle schoolers dispersed under her scrutinizing gaze. Breathing out a faint sigh of relief, her aristocratic features appearing somewhat tired of the whole ordeal. Tucking her loose grey locks, she looked extremely disappointed. Seeing people take advantage of their own strength was something that always caught her on edge. Cursing, she turned to the trembling figure behind her, still seeming to shield himself from those who were bullying him a while ago before she intervened.

"Get to your feet." As there was no response but more blubbering, she pursed her lips with masked frustration and held him by the arm, "Stop wailing like a fucking girl and stand up."

Albeit there was no anger traced in her voice, the boy winced. Finally there was a movement from the boy other than struggling and sobbing. Slowly and shuddering still, he stood. It was evident that he was trying hard to keep his composure, proof of it being his wobbly legs.

"Sorry."

She blinked and parted her lips slightly.

"Kid, I think 'thank you' would fit better in this equation," She shrugged, "Though you did delay me from my part-time job. That geezer would make me work extra hours again."

He flinched, "A-Ah.. sorry for, um, that.."

She eyed him with slight incredulity as he uttered that phrase. Really, was sorry all he had to say? Deciding quickly, she strode forward.

"Fix your uniform and come with me," She halted her steps to look back at him, "no questions asked."

To her favor, he did what he was told. Turning her nonchalant gaze forward, she was contemplating about what she have done. It wasn't her choice to save this boy from whatever trouble he managed to get himself into, but when she saw him begging for them to let him go, he suddenly reminded her of someone she knew. And she hated how that made her feel.

She stopped directly in front of a bookstore's entrance and hastily entered. She nodded an acknowledgement towards the guard by the door, and put her bag on the counter to be taken care of.

The boy from earlier was still behind her, thankfully.

"Tenshi-san, I'll just treat his wounds a bit, I'll start my shift right after." She informed the guard, and he gave her a warm smile and a nod of approval. Muttering a thanks, she headed towards the backdoor of the employees. Beside the door was a small shelf, and a certain book caught her attention. Pondering a bit, she took it from the shelf and handed it to the boy.

He stared at it; confused. A dictionary?

"Sorry seems to be the only thing in your vocabulary, maybe that could help you expand it."

\- - -

After treating the boy's wounds as much as she possibly can, she sneaked out of the employee room, making sure no customer saw her. The reasoning behind her forced stealth attempt was actually very simple.

She was a civilian guard for the bookstore.

With an age of sixteen and a height of 5"9, she was nowhere near intimidating. As a stubborn young high schooler, though, and her knowledge on the martial arts — something she took several classes on as a child — she got the job. She was doing quite well with her job, mind you. It was a plus factor that not much shoplifting or other inappropriate things circled around the vicinity.

The work she was doing itself was fun as well, she had to admit. Just sneakily throwing glances on passerbys in an air conditioned room full of books and the like while earning money? Who'd reject the opportunity?

Considering there were only a few customers, she took her time looking for a book worth the read. She held no interest with romance books as of late and it was odd, she had tons of them stacked under her bed. But recently, her liking towards the thriller genre was surfacing. Beside her stack of romance and drama books was her rising count of thriller ones.

Deciding against finding another one to save money, she took the thriller book that she hid under the shelf. The title of it was, 'The Tame Blossom Voices' by Ikagari Daiki.

Her eyes bored on the name for a while.

Ikagari Daiki.. Ikagari Dai — oh.

It resembled the name of a classmate and neighbor of hers, Aomine Daiki. She didn't know much about him nor was she curious; after all, the first time she saw him, he seemed just like everybody else. His height and demeanor aside, that is. Why would he be any different? She was human, he was human, everybody was. So after all the books she have read about romance, she couldn't help but think how they come to like someone that's much like everyone. They were all just the same — on an endless endeavor, some just being less enthusiastic about it. How could they know that someone was 'the one' when they haven't even met half of the fish in the sea? The concept of to love and to be loved was intriguingly complicated.

Albeit, there was something about Aomine that made her think twice. His voice. It was gruff and low, but every time she hears it, it seemed oddly comforting. They haven't spoken even once, but it wasn't much of a hassle to listen to his and Sakurai's conversations. Eavesdropping came naturally to someone like her, someone who just listens.

That was all there was to it, though. She pushed her glasses upwards and tapped the surface of the book one last time before deciding to buy it. Her ears caught a sound of flipping pages, however, and she snapped her gaze towards the source.

She squinted her vivid golden orbs, taking a closer look. Was that Aomine Daiki himself, flipping through a magazine of gravure idols?

Well, what do you know.

"Flipping through a closed book or magazine is prohibited, sir. I suggest you put it back."

Aomine turned to her with a bewildered look, but he never did put the magazine back to it's shelf.

"I'm gonna buy it anyway, so what's the point?" At his reply, she pursed her lips. His behavior was just as she expected.

"We wouldn't know that, would we?" He cocked a brow at her question, but he wasn't given much time to protest when pale hands took the magazine from his grip and carefully put it back to its rightful place.

"Do refrain from doing this incident again. Rest assured, you won't get reported."

She turned on her heel and stalked away from the scene. She'd have to be extra careful and elusive with him now. She didn't like to be known, if he remembers any of this occurrence then seeing her next door as his neighbor and in school as his classmate, surely even if he ignores her, it would be hard not to steal even a small glance.

"Who are you?"

This question from him made her halt. Who was she? What kind of question was that? Did he even take notice of her at Tōō to think he was supposed to know who she was? She turned to look at him with a blank expression, masking a slither of confusion.

"You just look kinda familiar, a tad bit. So yeah? Who're you?"

His passing expression as if his question wasn't of pure curiosity but was just for the sake of boredom nagged her a little. Still not receiving an answer from her, Aomine grunted and furrowed his eyebrows.

"Oi, you, it would be really great to have an answer right now."

She reluctantly replied.

"Mel."

After that exchange, she hastily left. One thing was stuck at the back of her head, though.

His voice really was odd. In a good way.


	2. his spark

**H I S**

 **S P A R K**

"How unfortunate."

Mel mumbled to herself, as there was nobody else to direct her statement to in the awfully empty hallway.

For the first time that week, and the sixth counting the last week, her classroom was still locked when she arrived. It was getting rather tiresome, always being the first person to clock in at Tōō. There were even times when the security guard wasn't even on actual duty around the time she came. The fact itself was amusing. But the whole getting-here-too-early-so-she-is-locked-up situation? It was anything but amusing. If Mel wasn't good at one thing, then it'll be waiting. Impatience is her.. strong point, it seems.

"Dee, you should take over my job one day," Came a voice from the end of the hallway. There stood one of Tōō's guards, Hachi. She knew the school's guards, all-in-all. Some of the workers too, yes. Being way too pristine's got a few perks.

"It's Mel, Hachi-san, and no, I haven't planned my future so far yet to take up that offer of yours." She pinched the bridge of her nose, having to correct him for not using her proper name.

Apparently, to him, and the other guards, she was nicknamed 'Dee'. A shorter term for Birdie, they insisted on renaming it as Dee, since Die would be, let's say, misunderstood. Wouldn't want people randomly hearing the word die. And it's coming from the expression, early bird. She thinks it's cheesy. Really.

"But you already know how being a guard works, anyway."

"Yeah, and that makes the job even more boring."

"You've got a real gun on you at all times — where's the boring?"

"Oh I don't know, maybe the fact that you don't even use it," Sighing she leaned back on the wall, gesturing to the locked door, "Also, this door looks like it needs to be opened."

"Alright, Dee. Stop being jealous because I can own a gun and you can't," Hachi chuckled and put the keys back, "Door's all good. Don't drop out yet kid, study well."

"Not jealous of anything, and as a matter of fact, I study."

Hachi's faint chortle of disbelief faded through the hallways as he left, now leaving Mel with her own thoughts and the subtle wisp of mist as she breathes.

Perhaps it was time to start the day.

She's been there all the time as the classroom fills in with more students one at a time. Although when that happens, she's either stuck in her own world with books, or cursing mentally while gaming.

Never once had she been a little, just a little, nervous of a certain someone gracing them with his mere presence.

Sure, he'd never be the one to memorize other people's faces, much less that of a stranger's. Maybe not really strangers, anyway. They were classmates and neighbors, of sorts of course. Though she never pegged him to be the type of person to socialize a lot and concern himself with things that aren't really any of his personal business. One thing she also liked about him: he kept his hands to himself. Yes; sometimes he shares his unwanted — at least according to others — opinion, but she honestly thinks it was necessary. No biggie, but she was a fan of unpopular and logical opinions. At least he didn't go around getting too nosy.

And, Mel thanked the Gods that time, or whoever was up there, because Aomine just sat down without any haste and buried his face on his desk.

Now she just had to wait for the day to finish without any superfluous plot twists. And the first thing to do was drone out the noise and focus on her recent book.

Recent was actually not fitting. Mel had just been rereading the whole book over again. It was something fascinating and there was just something that made her want to relive the scenes over and over.

... Or not. Or maybe she just ran out of books to read, so 'hey, let's just read this one'. Totally. Running a free hand over the spine, she waited for her name to be called. It was just about time.

"Shinatobe, Mella."

And then, she snapped her book shut.

"Present."

Little did she know as she shut her book and she graced the room with her voice, someone's own blue irises snapped open.

\- - -

Aomine couldn't care less about the roll call after he was mentioned. But, just then, someone spoke up and he swore — there was no mistaking it.

He's heard that voice before.

And as he turned his eyes to look at the voice's owner, he also knew — he's seen that face before too. And it wasn't at school.

That was all there is to that, though. The only thing he could remember was them meeting at some random bookstore a few blocks away from Tōō and that she was the girl who took his precious magazine from his hands. He was getting to the good part that time. One of his favorite gravure idols was featured right in the next page and she had to go and grab it.

He was, no doubt, upset of that fact, but what can he do? Maybe opening enclosed books and magazines at bookstores wasn't really a welcomed action.

Oh, and, didn't she say her name was Mel?

\- - -

The rest of the day, Mel spent her free time under the sakura tree just behind their classroom on the far right.

It was already an hour after dismissal and she was stuck in a situation she always found herself in. Alone with her doubts. With her rumination of endless woe. As no one visited the tree by far in her first and current year, she ambiguously proclaimed it as her own simple fort. A fort of insurgent emotions; where her peace of mind dwells. And there was only one reason why she chose to indulge in the idea of a place where an intake of fresh air would suffice.

Because growing up was hard.

The comfort your parents gave you was gone, your tears would get you to sleep in place of lullabies, the answer to 'how are you's were now always an empty lie, and stress was only a matter of subjective homeworks until you feel that everything now takes a toll on you more than it ever should.

Hope becomes expectation. Choice becomes obligation. Water becomes liquor. Normal pills become drugs.

Children become adults.

She missed the nights where all it took was a small story with a happily ever after ending it profusely to make her fall asleep. Because now, she had to deal with something more than pigs building their own fortress to protect themselves from wolves, more than a princess withering by an apple bite, and more than a beauty learning to love a beast. Before drifting off to a dreamless sleep — her smile fades, her mind overthinks and her tired soul concedes.

If only resting was as easy as fairy tales make them to be.

Finally deciding to go to Koko's — the bookstore where she worked — she gathered her books beside her and threw her litter of chocolate milk by the trash bin without a glance.

Luckily, this time, she didn't encounter any signs of middle schoolers who were cornering people inferior to them by terms of physical build. Because she honestly couldn't take another injured kid to work.

Koko's Crew, the official name of the bookstore, was closed when she got there. But the sign of 'closed' wasn't the only thing she found upon arriving. There was a rather tall guy with a dark complexion and blue hair standing in front of the closed bookstore, wearing Tōō's uniform. Oh, and she knew who this was.

"Aomine?"

She suddenly regretted blurting out his name when he turned his head to look at the speaker. There was a hint of recognition passing by his dark blue irises.

"Couldn't be more right, honey." He answered with a wink.

Oh.

Fuck.

"Before anything, yes, I do know Mella is Latin and it means Honey," He grinned, "Is that why you told me your name was Mel? Aren't ya cute."

"I prefer Mel over Mella," She replied, masking the disgust of her given name's meaning. It was true; what he said, that is. Mella meant Honey when translated from Latin — and well, she said Mel partially because Mella sounded too feminine, "And how exactly did you conclude that my name meant that so quickly?"

"History is a nice subject, and most of history has Latin and all that, yeah," Shrugging and taking a bite of his Teriyaki burger, he waved the question off, "and I'm just that knowledgeable."

It was faint, but Mel swore she saw a peculiar spark behind his eyes. They weren't typical blue, as she always described them. It looked like the ocean in the middle of the night, engulfed in darkness yet still able to shine.

"Right. And you're at Koko's. Why's that?"

"More magazines." Mel threw him a curious look, "It's a passion I call collecting."

"Sure," She drawled out, keeping her opinion that he was a pervert to herself, "I'll leave you with your.. collecting."

Just as she turned to leave, he catched up with merely two steps.

"I'll go with ya then. Where's your house?"

She almost scoffed, "We're neighbors."

Aomine paused, pondering. They both halted as he recalled who his neighbors were; at least that's what it looked like. A blank look sprawled around his expression, so she wasn't really able to tell.

"Oh. You live in that big ass house, dunno, was it color white?"

"Speak for yourself. Your house is big as well."

"Hm, I guess. How come I've never noticed ya before?"

A look of disbelief made its way to her face, "I didn't really expect you to be this dense. Anyway, I didn't make an effort to be noticed plus I always leave the house early. Nothing new."

"Then maybe I should walk with you from now on then, honey?"

"Stop calling me honey."

"It's your name though," He snickered, "And you didn't deny my offer. I'm now your neighbor and walkmate."

There was a pause.

"What's a walkmate?"

"No idea."

And right there the gleam in his eyes returned again.


	3. his disregard

**H I S**

 **D I S R E G A R D**

"Hey, wake up."

Mel awoke with a heavy feeling begrudgingly pooling through her chest.

She nodded towards her mother and gestured for her to leave the room, muttering a grateful utterance once she complied. They weren't on the best terms, her mother was trying — believe her, she really was — to gain back her favor, but nothing seemed to work. With a head as hard as Mel's, penetration was dreadfully difficult.

It was a dreamless sleep, as every other night was. No fantasies, no gospels. Perhaps she'd have to be thankful. She would be, if her life didn't seem like a dream. Yes, she was awake; but it was as if the morning haze acted as a trigger for her nightmares.

The gloves that kept her freezing fingertips ablaze towards the entirety of the night still clung to her figure. While tucked under her covers, she let out an ample sigh. Her room was docked over colors of gold and black — much like her eyes. Glints of gold, soul of black. Both vivid and indistinct.

Brushing the fringe of grey hair over her face, she stood up and made herself comfortable, standing there clutched in her pyjamas the same hue as her locks whilst her slippers of canary enveloped her feet.

The morning sun struck the living room's red curtains, reflecting a comforting tint of terracota across the marmoreal table.

There sat her parents caught in a stiff silence. Her father on his usual spot at the middle with a newspaper stuck to his face and a hot coffee accompanying him by the right. Her mother was by his left, a croissant between her delicate fingers, gaze locked to anywhere but hers. The faint scent of cinammon ran across the vicinity and that was the only thing Mel liked about her mornings. Cinammon mixed with petrichor, maybe even a hint of dew.

Another string of undisturbed silence fell upon the three Shinatobe, none attempting to break it. All three felt contented minding their own businesses and that was nothing to complain her. Quite advantageous, if you think about it. As much as Mrs. Shinatobe wanted to make up to her daughter, she was also human. She felt tired, at times, chasing over someone who has yet to return their affection. She have screwed up a fair amount, to Mel's defense, and that wasn't easily forgotten. After all, she was a sort of person that held grudges no matter how many times she told you she's 'okay with it'. Because trust her, she's not.

The fatherly figure, however, did no such thing. Did not pursuit because he believed, that as a daughter, as their own daughter, she'd cave in eventually. Although it was taking her an awfully long time to cave in. He didn't mind. Pride above everything else. It wasn't new in the family of Shinatobe. Prideful, generous if given the chance. Nonchalance as a mask and intelligence as a second nature. Wealth bestowed upon their hands, they gave. Not much, but they did. That should have mattered, at least.

Mel downed a glass of water before grabbing her towel from the hanging, thin steel by the laundry. With featherlike saunters, she retreated back to her room and took a quick bath and got ready in under twenty minutes. She threw a glance at the side and it was still pretty early. Not like that would stop her from getting out of this place, anyways.

Slinging a bag over her shoulder and the familiar nonchalance guising her aristocratic features, she did not spare one of her goodbyes to anyone who was left in her house before leaving the premises.

Thankfully, her neighbor doesn't wake up with the same alarm clock as hers. If Aomine Daiki would come swaggering over to her on her usual walk towards Tōō, she honestly wouldn't know what to do.

Admittedly, he wasn't much of a nuisance yesterday where they went home together. Accompanied with the domestic silence, of course. Not like Aomine was the type to blab anyway. At least he wasn't a chatterbox. Because, kami, if he was, then her life would have been screwed over six ways from Sunday. If there was anything other than slow things that she despised, it was unnecessary babble. Can't people keep their thoughts to themselves?

As per usual, Tōō was still covered with morning murk and the scent of fresh grass clippings mixed with rosemary.

Hachi stood by the guard house and gave her a salute, which she returned with Shinatobe mockery.

"Ah, Dee. I was just about to open the rooms, wanna go?"

She shrugged and accepted, "Sure. You're opening first year's rooms first, right?"

"Yep, kiddo. And because I'm kind enough, I'll open yours first."

"Dee's here? No surprise there."

Mel's eyes shone with recognition, "Yagei-san, you're back?"

"Ya bet. Couldn't keep me away forever, you see. Tōō's security is nothing without this old man."

"We were just informed with a memo that he's back from suspension this week," Hachi quipped as his eyes diverted to Mel's hands, "Speaking of returns, you're wearing your gloves again. Last days you weren't."

"Misplaced it somewhere. And, Yagei-san, I'm glad you're here, but I'd love to go to my classroom."

"Right Dee," Yagei chuckled, "Go ahead then."

Mel smiled at his direction and to the other utility workers.

"Good morning."

A chorus greeted her back.

Hm, if it really was a good morning, she wondered.

\- - -

Of course it wasn't a good morning.

Out of all the peaceful days, Aomine chose this one to bother her.

"Oi, Mel, ya didn't wait for me this morning."

She grimaced with the use of her first name.

She couldn't blame him, though. She was the one who foolishly made it known that her nickname was Mel. Honestly it wasn't her brightest moment.

No matter, it was better than honey, anyways.

"I wasn't aware I was supposed to wait for you."

"Didn't we have a conversation that I was your new walkmate?"

"Didn't we have a conversation where neither of us knew what a walkmate was?"

He shrugged.

"New term. Magic words."

She resisted the urge to scoff.

"Suit yourself."

Silence fell upon them.

Mel continued fiddling with her phone gaming — health bar dropping at a consistent rate — luckily she had enough potions to survive. Aomine slumped against his table, snoring the time away. Oddly enough, Mel found herself dropping words she didn't mean.

"Can you speak again?"

As if he knew that she was talking to him, he cast Mel a lopsided and lazy grin whilst his head snapped up.

"Oh?"

Mel cleared her throat.

"Don't flatter yourself. I simply find your voice nice to hear. It's a part of you I don't regret the existence of."

"There were insults jabbed there, but I won't bother enumerating anyways. So, my voice is nice?"

Mel still wasn't looking up from her phone.

"If you didn't notice, yes."

"You'd hear more of this as my walkmate."

Much to her chagrin, he was using one of the few things she liked about his very being to be his "walkmate". She enjoyed the subtleties of mornings, the isolation, the recluse, the faint hint of mothball looming around her, swirling. Now she'd have to share the luxury? As much as she liked the deep baritone of his octaves, she'd rather not.

"Nevermind, then."

She heard Aomine shift even as her sight was focused on the game. She was winning, slowly, and the level shall be passed. Health could be easily replenished — and there was only one boss left.

"Ryō, around what time does Mel arrive in the mornings?"

Oh, for the love of God.

Mel could barely hold back a grunt.

"O.. Oh. Uh, you mean Shinatobe-san?"

"I think that's her last name? Yeah, I guess."

She groans this time. He 'thinks'.

"Very early, from what I know. Like, um, really really early?" His gaze shifted to Mel's, probably hearing her not-so-concealed grunts, "I'm.. I'm sorry, Shinatobe-san, Ao.. Aomine-kun asked — so — !"

"It's okay, Sakurai-san." Mel gave him a smile that held back a grimace. Really, he couldn't blame Sakurai for saying. Literally the whole classroom knows she rises with the sun. Aomine didn't, and that wasn't surprising at the least.

"Oh? So really, really, early, Mel?"

"Shut up."

"I can wake up really, really early too, just so you know."

Even though she didn't look up from her phone with her recent victory over the level, she knew there was a mocking grin plastered across his face.

\- - -

"Oi, honey, is that banana milk?"

It was lunch.

And it wasn't Mel's usually peaceful lunch by the tree.

"Have you gone blind? It's chocolate."

"Oh, then can you fetch me some banana milk?"

"No."

It ended there. Aomine, being the epitome of laziness, didn't move an inch to get his banana milk. Sakurai Ryō was also included in this little scene, per se. He was just as confused as Mel to why they were here. After all, last week, they barely even talked.

"I'm.. sorry, Shinatobe-san, but why does Aomine-kun call you honey?"

Mel stiffened.

Shit.

Under any circumstances, she didn't want her name's origin known. It was embarrassing as it is that Aomine knew what Mella meant.

"What do you mean? He calls everyone honey."

Poor excuse. Even Aomine snorted at that.

"He doesn't call me — "

She pinched the bridge of her nose and stood up.

"You know what, I'm gonna fetch Aomine some banana milk."

Dismissal came.

Mel felt like this has been one of the longest days of her whole life.

"Walkmate, we gonna go, or?"

It seemed like she wouldn't be able to do anything about her current predicament now.

Find a loophole, Mel, isn't that what you're good at?

"I have work."

"I'll tag along."

"You have basketball practice, or whatever."

His eyebrows rose.

"Don't need it. Are you out of excuses yet?"

"Fine. Tag along, piece of shit."

"Sure, honey," He snickered, "Don't stain that holy mouth of yours, aren't ya afraid?"

"I never had a holy mouth, now if you can conceal yours from spouting more nonsense, it'll be heavenly."

Aomine grinned, "But I thought you liked my voice?"

She never should have said that.

"When it isn't making unnecessary comments, yes."

Work went smoothly. Aomine was occupied. He went and bought himself more magazines, as he swore he'd collect some. No other problems around Koko's, and there wasn't any memo but payday nearing this Saturday. Currently, it was still Tuesday, so four more scouting around and she'll get some well-earned — if she could put it that way — money.

Aomine also kept his ideal of being walkmates.

Once her shift ended, they both walked towards their respective houses. Not in silence like last time, however.

"We should clear up what a walkmate means."

Aomine shrugged, "Yeah, sure. It's two people walking regularly together. Sound good?"

"Two people walking regularly together? That's your idea of a walkmate?"

Aomine scoffed and put his hands behind his head, "Got a better one, honey?"

She looked over him with a mocking glance, "Nope, Great Shine of the Blue Peak."

"What the fuck?"

Mel, for once, laughed around the tall and muscular bluenette.

"Your name meaning's so noble it's sickening," She cackled, "I mean, really? At least Honey is kinda tolerable. Oh so Great Shine of the Blue Peak."

"At least I'm not fucking Pooh."

"Oh sure. Defending your crushed ego. Typical."

"It isn't crushed!"

"Uh-huh."

Maybe being walkmates, whatever that was, wasn't as bad as it seems.

\- - -

 ** _Mella [Latin] :_**

honey

 ** _Aomine Daiki [Japanese] :_** great shine of the blue peak


	4. his trinket

**H I S**

 **T R I N K E T**

"He's your cousin, right?"

A lump formed on Mel's throat. The air thinned and she felt herself catching her breath, chanting calming thoughts in her head.

 _It's okay, it's okay, Mel, just answer,_ she muttered mentally. At the moment, she didn't really trust her voice. Clutching her gloves, she firmly answered.

"Yeah," she released the breath she was holding, "He is."

"You look so much alike!"

"Awfully so."

It was Tuesday night. Mel and her family was over at their grandfather's house, for they were grieving for their grandmother's death anniversary. All of their relatives would be around, of course. And as usual, her aunts and uncles were discussing how alike Mel was and her male cousin; Yuya. She didn't quite understand why her relatives would still ask if they were cousins. She was sure they'd been informed plenty.

Yuya had the same gold eyes as she had — maybe even a tint of honey. His hair, however, was the shade of overcast cobalt. He was recently the age of six.

"Yuya! Come over here, Mel-nee's around."

The said boy snapped away from his story book and stalked forward with such grace for a six year old as he carefully took one step at a time.

"Mel. You came." His voice was as bland as it could get. For some reason, the boy didn't use formalities. He called everyone their given name — be it his own mother or father.

"I didnt really have much choice on the matter, Yuya."

Mel understood why most people kept insisting their similarities. They both held nonchalant gazes — as many Shinatobe do, of course — but they were the only ones of the clan to have golden eyes. They gave Mel the odd place in the family when Yuya still wasn't born, thinking she was adopted and all that. She thought it was absurd. What if the golden eyes came from her mother? Her mother wasn't even a Shinatobe to begin with. Her father was the one who carried the genes.

"I don't get how you two could be so tense yet cozy at the same time."

It was her Father that spoke up. His eyes had narrowed between the two of them, as if perlustrating the pair. Mel tried not to wince under his gaze as she put a hand on Yuya's shoulder, sensing him stiffen from his father's ogling.

She and Yuya had only conversed formally ever since they've met, yet no one could tell how the boy was somewhat comfortable with Mel from the beginning.

"We just have the same preference."

Mel saw her uncle — Yuya's father — enter the living room from the kitchen, and she immediately excused herself, not bothering with her relatives' protests about leaving too early.

She recalled how Yuya's irises glinted like honey — like her.

And she hated it for it reminded her of something she buried a long time ago.

\- - -

19 minutes.

The time it took for Mel to prepare for school. She wasn't a person to have a mini self evaluation at the bathroom, nor was she a person who steps out of it at almost the exact same time she entered. She didn't eat breakfast daily, so it was excluded from the things she had to finish before leaving.

The events of yesterday didn't bother playing with her mind this morning. And she wanted it to stay that way. Forget about the wretched family she ended up with, and just move forward without looking back at their scrutinizing, predatory gazes, waiting for you to slip up and make a mistake.

She left the bitter chides behind her as she walked out of her house.

Thanks to her gloves, the cold didn't seep through her fingertips although she was fairly sure her knuckles were turning white.

It was still remarkably early.

The fog was still collecting itself and the air vividly smelt like the mixture of peppermint and evergreen, followed by the distinct wind chime from her neighbor's doorstep.

It seemed like she wasn't alone.

"This is too early, how can you stand waking up in this?" Aomine grunted.

"I'm surprised you managed to get up that bed of yours," Mel commented, and for a fact, she really was subtly shocked, "Your tie's not even tied properly yet."

He scoffed, "You were leaving already, I had to hurry up a bit. Almost hit my head through the staircase in the process." With a drawl, he sauntered forward to her direction.

Out of courtesy, she stayed rooted to her place and waited for him to finish his little parade. He walked as if the road was in his command and if there ever was a bump it would automatically flatten itself just for him. Mel rolled her eyes at this. Looking at her spruce tinted wrist watch, she concluded that he was taking longer than a minute.

Courtesy be damned.

She turned her heel and walked towards Tōō, not bothering to wait for her 6'3" and a half neighbor and seatmate.

"Oi, honey, what the hell? Wait up!"

Of course, as their basketball team's ace, he was able to catch up to her fast. With long, big strides, he was beside her in an instant. She would not admit that this bothered her, even if it somehow did strike a nerve.

"Maybe next time you can stop having an exclusive fashion show in the middle of the road."

And in synchronized steps, they walked to Tōō in a comfortable silence.

\- - -

"Dee! What's this? You've got a companion?"

Mel cocked an eyebrow to Yagei's enthusiasm and Hachi's suggestive smiles.

"More like a burden, Yagei-san," Aomine didn't even look offended at the understated insult thrown at him, "I take it that the rooms are open?"

Hachi nodded at the question as he sipped his morning coffee.

"Also, Dee, before going, sign this for a bit? It's a little thing for Yagei-san, just to prove the students still approve of him being a utility," Mel was met with a sole sheet of paper and an uncapped ballpoint pen, "Since he kinda lashed out back then at one, hence the suspension."

The grey haired girl shrugged and accepted the paper, listing down 'Shinatobe Mella' in a not-so articulate manner accompanied with her ever-changing signature.

"That all?" They both nodded and threw grateful looks at Mel, "Alright. Later, Yagei-san, Hachi-san." she gave them nods respectively and headed to her classroom together with Aomine.

Again, they were in between a comfortable silence. Mel placed her bag beside the leg of her table, Aomine doing the same.

"Are you really that well-acquainted to the guards?"

Mel didn't take the question personally or in offense, "Yes. I'm often early and they happen to be the only company I have. Plus, they're convenient as, well, friends."

Aomine's brows creased.

"Convenient?"

"They're in charge of the gate. So yes. Convenient."

"The gate?"

Mel sighed, "Are you really gonna keep repeating my words?"

"Nah. I mean, why the gate? Why's that convenient to you? Do you cut classes?"

She let out an amused chuckle at his query, "You talk like you aren't aware of my sudden absences during after lunch or breaks, Aomine."

"Huh. So you're that guy who's always here at the mornings then sometimes not in the afternoon."

"No I'm not a guy," Mel leaned back on her chair, "Why am I not surprised that you didn't know I was that person? You didn't even know my name at first."

"Yeah, I don't really care about all the other stuff."

"Stuff except your sport?"

"Ya mean basketball? S'pose so. Gets boring every now and then but sure."

She rose an eyebrow in curiosity, "Boring?"

"No one's worthy enough of an opponent anymore."

"You're really full of yourself, huh?" Mel questioned, taking out her phone and opening Silent Hill to play.

"Would you rather me be nice, then?"

Mel thought it over.

"No," she breathed out, not looking up, "You're okay this way."


	5. his laxity

**H I S**

 **L A X I T Y**

"Where is your homework, Shinatobe?"

In an abrupt halt, Mel ceased pressing buttons on her phone. She turned her gaze upwards feigning innocence as her golden irises lock with her sensei's green ones. Quickly, the clog in her minds worked themselves out and an excuse was already at the tip of her tongue.

"I don't have siblings, sensei," she faked a shy expression, "and since the assigned task was to list down the psychological effects of having a sibling based on experience, I couldn't have possibly answered anything anecdotic."

The teacher on Health sighed visibly, before narrowing her eyes on Mel, "This is the last time I'm letting you off the hook, Shinatobe."

Yes, and she'd said that for some time now.

"Thank you so much, sensei. It won't happen again."

She'd said that for some time now too.

Now devoid of worry, Mel leaned back on her armchair with a faint exterior of relief adorning her aristocratic features. Passing a subtle glance to her left, she saw Aomine with his face pressed down his desk. How he wasn't ostracized by their sensei, she had no idea.

Like almost every subject available in the morning period, the cobalt haired classmate and neighbor of hers, no, she's not going to say walkmate still, was having the time of his life wandering around the land of dreams. Mel was no greater, playing games all the while, but at least she was conscious and that should count.

With a shrug, she pressed the 'resume' button and continued the paused game.

\- - -

Hypothetically speaking, if one tried to take over the world with a whole package full of chocolate milk, what would happen?

Mel thought it would work.

To her, that is. Who didn't want a supply of chocomilk to themselves? Probably dogs, since they can't handle chocolate. But who wouldn't die for chocolate? She totally would. Maybe not definitely go deceased, but close enough. At least in it she can partially drown the noise out of her surroundings.

"... ilk. Banana milk. Oi, honey. Buy me banana milk."

Mel stared at the owner of the voice for awhile, took the spare chocomilk beside her and shoved it into the chocolate-dream wrecker's face, "Pipe down a bit and just drink this."

"Does this," Aomine raised the carton and shook it, "look like banana to you?"

She shrugged, "Looks like milk to me."

"Not banana."

"You're acting like three-year old deprived of his favorite candy."

"It's not candy, it's milk."

"The one you're currently holding, genius, is chocolate — listen well — milk."

Aomine looked positively affronted but before he could bite back a retort, Mel brushed her skirt off as she got up, silencing him, "Save it, I'm going. Goodbye, Sakurai."

The aforementioned boy blinked a few times before it registered that he was called out, "Oh, sorry, I didn't hear.. ah, goodbye, Shinatobe-san. But lunch isn't even over yet?"

Mel nodded and crushed the carton before pocketing it, "Gonna cut. Also, stop with the formalities. It's just Shinatobe. If that's a mouthful, then just Shina. Or Shi, that's no proble — "

Aomine scoffed, "Yeah or you can call her honey."

Sakurai evidently looked flustered at the suggestion, taking it the wrong way. The grey haired individual almost choked at how nonplussed his expression was. If only he knew, but she wasn't hoping for that.

"Aomine's full of crap," With a strech, Mel waved the two of them goodbye after fixing the fit of her gloves. A less bewildered Sakurai nodded after her while a more torpid Aomine shooed her away.

\- - -

Mel's shift at Koko's Crew starts at exactly four in the afternoon. But still, it doesn't hurt to come by early once in a while. Even if that early referred to coming almost five hours early than the designated time. So, she didn't really understand what all the disapproving looks from her fellow co-workers meant.

"You skipped off your afternoon class again, didn't you?"

"I'm more comfortable with the term 'did not attend' instead of 'skipped', Tenshi-san."

A chuckle rumbled from the masculine guard and waved her off, "Just wait until Manager hears about this. You've done it countless times this year, he might even consider taking off the job."

From an outsider's point of view, it was a very likely thought that Mel would be relieved from her duties as a civilian guard for Koko's especially when she preferred to go to work than attend her classes. It was a farfetched theory, though, since with or without the job, they knew Mel would skip nonetheless.

"Highly doubt it, really," she brought her bag over the counter to be taken care of and strolled casually to one of the shelves to begin her shift, "Tell Manager I'm expecting a raise for extra hours."

And so with a glimmer of hope that she'd get the dubious raise anytime soon, she stalked off towards the shelves. Her gloved hand brushed over the spines of the books, humming a faint tune as she did so. She did not find herself around romance or thriller books this time, seeming as she stumbled in a mixed section of sorts. None, both fortunately and unfortunately, caught her interest. Not that she exerted effort on taking out one book out of the shelf and looking at its cover, anyways. That meant she'd be tempted to buy whatever did catch her eye and contradictorily also sadly, that she didn't find a book worth her money. Maybe this shelf wasn't her best shelf.

Actually, money wasn't that much of a problem, considering Mel's background. To why she's even working when she should've been laying back on one of her parents' expensive chairs listening to a melody from the music player that sat by the antique table, was partially a mystery to her. She knew some of it had to do with not being dependent on her parents' earnings, and having savings of her own. Maybe she just really liked being around a bookstore. She did wonder what the future would hold for her though, what job she's going to take once she's all grown up.

Peering down at her wrist watch, she decided she'd worry about it when the time comes.

\- - -

The sun dropped down quickly. The clouds stirred and the sky turned the hue of fiery red. Mel observed this by the translucent window of Koko's, reminded that her shift would soon end by roughly three minutes. Granted, the entire afternoon was uneventful. No one caused enough trouble for her to step in, shoplifters came as often as the rain in a desert. Perhaps she was exaggerating quite a bit, but her statement wasn't that far from the truth. So far, she had yet to encounter a real crime happening around the bookstore. The worst she'd seen was probably a student ripping a page off a book.

She did see Aomine though, but she didn't pay him any mind. He dropped by approximately thirty minutes ago, and Mel had no clue if he was still around. If he was, well she was just hoping he spent his time at Koko's more productively than stealing glances at gravure models from magazines. Honestly, it was also for him. He'd very much well look like a creep from a passerby's view.

To sum it all up, her day was as ordinary as it could've been. But then it rained.

The sudden rain wasn't something she foreshadowed, recalling the time she looked out the window and saw no signs of a cloudy, gloomy sky preparing for an abrupt shower. She liked the rain, she did, really. Even if her glasses ended up stained with droplets everytime it happened. But couldn't it have picked the day to come by when she actually brought an umbrella? Most of her co-workers had none and if they did, she hardly had a chance to borrow them since they would, of course, also need it when they come home.

And that's how she got stuck under the shed of Koko's Crew, watching the pitter patter of the rain. People constantly passed her by, all in their raincoated glory and some under an umbrella's protection from the droplets. Then some just needed to remind her that it wasn't her day, happily splashing over puddles the nearest to her — soaking her socks and dampening her skirt.

Her ears pulled her out of her thoughts upon hearing the chime. The world was out for her temper, she thought, seeing as her neighbor walked out of the store, eyes drooping naturally. A spark of hope lit up in her, and even if it was unlikely, she asked Aomine if he brought an umbrella.

Of course, Mel shouldn't have even thought of it, he had brought none.

"Nah, really don't care 'bout the rain," he explained, "I'm just gonna walk home without one."

She cocked an eyebrow, "You're going to soak yourself?"

"Well, yeah, I said that didn't I?"

Mel thought about her options. If she waited for the rain to stop, she'd stay here for hours, and it would be unsafe to walk home by that time. If she did ignore that it was raining and just walk home without a care, she'll... get wet.

She blinked. If you thought about it, it wasn't that bad. And atleast she was going through the rain with someone. Plus, they were... walkmates, weren't they?

"You gonna stare at the puddles there until the rain's gone or are you gonna start walking?"

Mel snapped her head up and found Aomine already out of the shed, the rain drenching his hair, and gradually his face and clothes.

Shaking her head slightly, she stepped out.

"Let's go."

Just as she said, the rain really wasn't that bad.


	6. his hubris

**a / n ;** some quick thing, if my usual 1k/2k word count bothers you, it's just the way i write. glimpses and all that. it won't change as long as my approach is still light romantic(?) progress and soft angst/drama.

\- - -

 **H I S**

 **H U B R I S**

"You might want to wake up."

Mel pursed her lips before she could let something inappropriate slip through it by pure accident.

"I'm not going to school today."

Mr. Shinatobe rose a skeptical eyebrow to his daughter, a huff settling itself on his exterior. Glancing towards the calendar against the walls, he turned to look back at the child he beared.

"Seems like you can't even look at a calendar properly. It's Friday and your day off from school is merely the day after."

"Oh trust me, Dad, I know what day it is. I'm not actively oblivious and passive to everything just like you are," Mel replied, shutting one eye from the blinding light, "Kindly step out of the bedroom, please. I know it's your house and I am not going to refer it as mine."

"Your blatant charade of disrespect astounds me. Not only have you brought such a sin to this household, you dare act like the victim — "

A sneer fixed itself on Mel's face, tired of the banter and the hypocrisy, "Last time I checked I was the victim."

"What happened may have been explicit, but it's your fault as well as the other. Quit acting like it was only your life ruined."

"Why do you keep bringing that up? It's done and it's over!"

Honestly, the way her father insists on surfacing that topic, you'd think he was the one most affected and then show off that he was oh-so-disappointed with big fancy words. It hit Mel like a tidal wave, but it's done now. The damage has not been fixed but left alone. It's okay entirely and people should start forgetting that it ever happened. Gods, it's been years! Why couldn't they just _move on_?

And oh, she knew perfectly well that it wasn't only herself that was affected by what has happened before. The other person involved completely fell out with their family and she was lucky to some extent to have been accepted not too awfully yet still not too warmly. Mel no doubt understood that but that did not mean she did not harbor hate for the person involved other than she. Trust her, they were perfectly loathed. While her family had been rather "accepting", they claimed her at fault for something she did not have a say nor a control to. Deeming that she was a preposterous lady for having let that happen, ruining another person's life because of her lack of control — where was the justice? She didn't get that, but she let it go. There was no point on hanging on awful, awful things from before and keep on reminiscing what was hopeless.

A grunt escaped her throat and she wondered why she still holed herself up in the place her parents called home.

It wasn't "home" anymore. It was just another place.

Home secured and protected. It was the feeling surging through you in a sudden wave of joy, the whimper that escapes your chest in a moment of beckoning and the crinkle in one's eyes as they smiled free of faux.

This was nowhere near that. Here, it's like being cautious as if someone would suddenly start to pounce on you. Like the shallow breaths that begin to pour out your throat in the act of being suffocated, your fingers cluthing to the blankets in an attempt to hold on, and seeing your scarred figure from the mirror of the bathroom as you slowly see the glass break.

It was prison with newly washed walls and grandeur chandeliers hanging from the ceilings. A cell equivalent to the bedroom she was thrown into with the bed being extra comfortable and the lights somewhat golden. A confinement sugar-coated.

Maybe it wasn't so bad, that maybe it was just her exaggerating and overreacting, but it should (should it?) matter, at least.

What a truly sickening place home was, she realized.

\- - -

Parents were the good people, Mel knows, even though the asshole front from her fatherly figure was very much evident. Well, sure, at times they were irritating and to an extent infuriating, but you're supposed to love and understand them as much as you can, anyways. Mel found affection odd, maybe her parents' demeanor was supposed to be touching? She had no idea. The best she could do is counter their attitude with the same levels. If it had to be a debate on what she was doing with her life, why not argue with them. It seems to work out rather well.

Overall it was frustrating, Mel concludes.

Oh and her father was ridiculous too. She was going to be "late" but it was roughly four in the morning. Absolutely, utterly, ridiculous. This was one of the reasons why she had always preferred her mother waking her up. She actually reads the clock. Her father probably thinks the calendar has some automatic time on it or something.

Mel really needed coffee therapy. Her whole morning was instantly ruined with a few actions and she just really wanted a good drink to clear her head.

She tried not tripping on her way downstairs, but apparently that was too much to ask for. Not like she didn't expect it, anyways. She didn't bring her glasses with her because she was a little miffed still, she thought not wearing her glasses would make a statement to her father — she didn't know what I'm-not-wearing-my-glasses-you-bought-for-me would mean in 'pissed off at you and so I'm being petty language' but it should mean something. It totally should. She didn't wear her gloves too just because.

She passed by her parents sitting at the dining table by their usual places, and she blinked owlishly at both of them highlighting the fact that her glasses weren't on before grabbing the coffee and the sugar, along with her mug to bring upstairs (she prefers black coffee and has a heater ready at her bedroom), because she was, of course, making some sort of statement. She ignored the fact that it was slightly heavy, just pissing her parents off equally would appease. The way her father's left eyebrow would twitch and her mother sigh in exasperation was so worth it.

Mel was leaning on her bedroom wall waiting for the water to boil, the fact that her bedroom was inanely plain noticeable with only a few specks of gold — _was that glitter?_ — and the rest covered in various dark shades. Didn't matter, she thought it was easy enough on the eyes. Plus it was her occupying the room so if they didn't want what it currently is, then it shouldn't really bother them unless it was theirs, no?

The whistling noise the heater made finally reached Mel's ears and she promptly turned it off while unplugging from the socket. She poured her mug that already had the coffee and sugar hot water then picked up the spoon from beside it to stir. The clang of the stirring was pleasing to the ears, Mel thinks, and she continued to stir longer than necessary because of it. She felt grown-up and independent stirring coffee during early mornings — it was like you were a responsible person that rises with the sun and stirring coffee while sitting on a rocking chair watching the sunrise from your veranda. It was a nice thought.

Mel brought the mug to her lips and found that the steam from the hot liquid directly met her eyes due to her lack of glasses. Mel's eyes were very, very sensitive and she couldn't sip properly. The steam covered her eyes and made it past her lids to come in forthright. Her eyes were swelled and there was just too much heat for her and she dropped the mug she was holding to the ground, shattering it to pieces.

Muttering a 'shit' under her breath she tried picking up a shard but ended up with a splinter. Right, she did not have her gloves on. Blood dripped down her finger and in an attempt to wipe it off she only caked her nail with the red liquid. It was kind of pretty for a while before it started hurting a bit.

She was sure that the breaking sound was heard downstairs as Mel heard her parents' muffled snickers (they apparently tried to stifle them), and she felt like an idiot. Really, she was so stupid this morning and she's definitely not gonna go to school because she was in an even worse mood right now and she might do something utterly idiotic like throw a book at her infuriating Biology professor.

 _Gods,_ she hated being petty.

\- - -

Mel didn't go to Tōō that day, yes, but she was hanging outside their front yard to feel some fresh air and calm her nerves. Though only a meager of irritation bypassed her features, she was somehow frustrated this morning. Her ring finger that was splintered earlier was covered with a band-aid and she still had no glasses or gloves for a statement — she could be subtly stubborn.

The birds didn't chirp today, Mel noted, and it only added to the fact that it was really not her day. Nevertheless she leaned back on her chair to enjoy the cool atmosphere that brought solace to her senses and gradually, Mel started to feel herself drift off surrounded by the thinning fog and the noise of the bicycles tingling like a bell, squeaking of the shoes as the passerbys run, the slight scrape on the ground as the leaves fall ever-so-slowly and the way a deep baritone calls out 'honey' roughly like a son— what?

"— ney. Oi, honey. Is that your uniform now or something?"

Of course, it would continue to be a sad, sad day because who was she to kami anyways?

Aomine lazily slouched himself by their gate, enough that his usually frowning face could be seen. Mel sighed to herself and massaged her temples in a prayer of tolerating idiots and not snapping at them and not throwing them off the nearest cliff and not bumping their head against the walls. So, she pulled a neutral face and answered, "It's my uniform at.. home." Hah. Home.

"Aa, so you gonna skive the whole class off?"

"Skive sounds better than skip. Props to you, blue. And yeah. If that's what being absent from school means now, anyways."

"'Blue'? I thought you were more creative than that or something."

Mel shrugged, "Can't waste my creativity on you now, can I,"

"I'm totally worth the creativity, honey."

"You're worth a dead fish." Mel murmured, low enough for her ears only so when Aomine asked what she said, she merely looked at him and leaned back on her chair.

"Huh, so I won't have free milk today," it was humbling that Mel was regarded highly as a free-milk-giver, "Guess I better bug Ryō... maybe." The last part, Mel supposed, was a thought to himself said aloud, "Later, then."

Mel nodded, feeling a little light-headed. She yawned, spurting out some words that very closely sounded like, "Your voice was nice today."

Apparently Aomine hadn't gotten too far and heard it — all could be told from that smug look in his half-lidded eyes.

Mel grunted though didn't flush from embarrassment (she was used to suddenly saying stupid stuff like that that it didn't unnerve her anymore and blushing sounded unnatural and all that stuff), but really, she thinks, today she probably met her daily quota of idiocy.

With all that said, though, she let tall, dark and blue walk away with a priggish air enough to choke, but she didn't find it all that vexing anymore.


End file.
